Spill Your Guts
by Wings Of Sanguine
Summary: Demons are gone, the angels have fallen. Sam, Dean, Kevin and Cas have to adjust to their new life. Daryl Dixon is alone. Rick and the others are dead, eaten by Walkers- after finding Hael in a ditch. He finds himself in a world of trouble with the Winchesters, along with the hope that his brother may still be alive. (DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN WALKING DEAD OR SUPERNATURAL)
1. Chapter 1

Suddenly, the demons were gone. The angels were deprived of their grace, making them human, subsequently. Castiel still had trouble realizing this, shivering violently when it was cold, turning into a ripened tomato when he was out in the sun. Everything the Winchesters did was all in good favor- teaching him how to use the washing machine. Showing him that when you place your hand on the stove while it's on will hurt- which he had learned last week as he had done so while helping Sam cook dinner.

But most of all, showing him that he no longer possessed power granted by God. That's what hurt the most. It hurt to know that he no longer was able to stay awake all night. It hurt knowing he was unable to heal wounds with a single touch as he once did. But he was learning, and that was what mattered most.

"Cas, you need sleep buddy," Den said one night, giving the former angel a slap on the back. Cas shook his head. A bowl of tomato soup was sitting on the table in front of him, accompanied by a once piping hot and melty grilled cheese sandwich. the cheese had now hardened, the bread blackened to ash. The soup was now cold to the touch._ Looks like he isn't used to eating yet_, Dean thought with a heavy sigh. The utensils rested unused on the table, the metal lading under the light from the chandelier.

"No, I don't sleep, Dean," Castiel stammered out of habit, "I'm an Ange-" Dean gave him a cross look, shaking his head. Cas lowered his gaze to stare at his lap, his now human legs. He was surprised this vessel was still able to carry him, not decay and shrivel up as other angels vessels had done. He gulped, remembering how he had left Hael in the middle of nowhere, a young girl lying broken and bloody and confused in a ditch off the side of the road somewhere in… was it Georgia? He couldn't remember, the details starting to blur.

"Sorry, but those days are over, bud," Dean said gruffly, pulling Cas out of his chair, leading him away from the table and down the hall to one of the bedrooms in the back.

"But-" he began, stopping himself when Dean gave him a pointed look. In the room were a set of twin beds, Kevin Tran laying down on the one that was pushed up against the wall, absentmindedly flipping through an old comic book he found in the closet.

"No buts, Cas," Dean said, pushing him towards the spare bed, "now get some sleep." Kevin had stopped reading at this point, his brown eyes darting between Dean and Cas as Dean turned to exit the room, then added, "And I trust you remember how to make your own bed? Because I can' be up in the middle of the night doing it for you yet again." Cas nodded- he didn't really remember which sheet went where, but he could try. _After all_, he thought,_ we all need sleep_.

"Good night, Cas," Dean said, throwing a wave over his shoulder at the teenager, "G' night, Kev."

"Yeah," Kevin answered, letting his thoughts drift back to the comic book, "g' night, Dean." As soon as Dean had shut the door, Kevin closed the book, tossing it under the bed for later. Cas stared at his bed, examining the crisp white sheets that were tucked in with perfect hospital corners.

"Sam made the bed for you," Kevin said, watching the former angel watch the inanimate object. Cas looked up at him, his eyes squinting with the classic confusion he usually had on his face.

"Sam….?" he asked, trailing off. Kevin nodded. Although it had been funny to watch him mess up everyday chores for the first week, it was gutting quite tiresome to have him ask pointless questions everyday.

"Yeah. He figured Dean might scold you for waking him u in the middle of the night again," Kevin grumbled, not adding that he himself was still not able to get any sleep, with their talking and moving and bumping around. It was hard enough to know that his room rested above the man who killed his mother- if he was even alive. Kevin hadn't dared to go into the basement ever since Crowley had antagonized him, tempted him to leave the safety of the Winchesters. Not bothering to change his clothes, Castiel pulled down the covers, climbing onto the creaky mattress. He felt the cold springs press into his back through the thin cloth, his shirt.

"Good night, Kevin," Cas said, hugging the pillow tightly until it was pressed roughly against his face. Kevin grinned, shaking his head as he answered, "You too, Cas," wondering if he would ever get used to having a former Angel Of The Lord for a roommate.


	2. Chapter 2

The gravel crunched beneath the thin soles of his boots as he approached it with caution. Flies buzzed around it, gathering like a halo at the top of its head. Gripping the crossbow until his knuckles turned white, Daryl Dixon advanced towards it, leveling the crossbow on his shoulder, squinting as he took aim.

"Ready Merle?" Daryl said to no one in particular, his voice barely audible to himself. Ever since his brother left on the hunt to bring back food and supplies… well, Daryl couldn't cope with the fact that his brother was missing, or that he may as well have been bitten by a Walker, turned into a mindless hulk of flesh, creeping and crawling wherever it could go to survive. The one standing in front of him may as well have already been shot in the head, it was clueless as to who was behind it.

It was approaching a ditch at the side of the road- why, he still had to figure out. Walkers were usually attracted to noise, snarling and baring their teeth to attack whatever- or _whoever_- it might have been to make that noise. Taking a few steps closer, he squinted, aiming once more at the skull.

That was when he saw her.

the poor bastard just sitting there comfortably in the dirt, unaware that disaster was about to strike at any moment. A girl with long brown hair just sitting in a random ditch at the side of a random road in Georgia. The blue skirt she wore was crumpled, with dirt decorating them hem, the fabric tangled up in her legs….. _Are her legs broken?_ Daryl thought as he silently slithered closer to the scene, the only sound to be heard was the single wail of the animated corpse- which finally got her attention. Turning her head, she let her pretty blue eyes widen in shock as the walker loomed over her, opening its gnarled mouth to bare rotted stumps it had for teeth. Before she could emit a single note, the thing suddenly toppled over, landing on her broken body.

"Aaahhh…." she moaned in pain as the dead thing crashed against her broken bones, legs bent at unimaginable angles, a bone that looked to be fairly important jutting from her left arm, her right a tangled mess of skin and muscle sinews. Hurriedly, Daryl half jogged half ran over to her, dragging the lump off her.

"I apologize, Miss…." Daryl trailed off as he scanned her for any other injuries she might have sustained, although the ones that she had seemed utterly impossible to survive with. All the girl was looking at was the shiny arrow that was biting into the skull of her attacker, a shiny red up the shaft to the feathers at the tip.

"It hurts…." she panted, her small chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She knew the vessel she was in was dying. As soon as Cas had crashed the car she knew she was dead- but what was the thing that had just tried to bite her? And who was this man who was suddenly here, trying his best to see to it that she was okay?

"It's gonna be alright," he said through a thick- and somewhat stereotypical- redneck accent as he crouched down to sit next to her, reaching for his belt, "I'm not gonna hurt you. You're gonna be just fine…" Pulling his hand away from his belt, Daryl held a walkie-talkie to his lips, pressing the button. He noticed the girl watching with a sudden intensity.

"Hey, Rick," Daryl said into the speaker, "it's Daryl. Out." A sudden crackling static before he was answered.

_"This is Rick_," said a voice, somewhat gravelly through the speaker, _"what's the situation down there? Do you need reinforcements?" _Daryl shook his head, casting a glance at the walker, then on the girl.

"Naw, man," Daryl answered, keeping his eyes on her, "I just, uh, found someone is all."

There was a moment of silence.

"Merle?"

"Naw, although I wish it was," Daryl said, "I'm sitting with-" holding a hand over the reciever, he asked, "what's your name, hon?"

"Hael," she said, raising her head so it looked as if she was on top of the world- after all, she was an Angel of the Lord, even if former. This man was nothing to her, just a lowly speck of dust she had o watch over before all… _this_ happened. Before she was cast out with all the others, her grace escaping from her, leaving her to be a useless human being that shuttled about from day t day, unaware of what truly went on around them. She didn't have time to talk to this stranger, she had to get back to finding a new vessel.

"- Miss Hael, and she seems to be banged up something' awful," Daryl went back to the walkie talkie.

_"She's not a walker, is she?"_ came Rick's skeptical voice. Daryl shook his head.

"Naw, she's human. But you might want to bring some troops over here to dispose of the walker that almost ate her." He stared with disgust as all sorts of insects began swarming the corpse, feeding off its carcass as the flesh boiled in the afternoon sun. As Daryl continued his conversation with Rick, Hael let her eyes wander over the man's body. His brown hair was swooped over to one side and shaggy, traces amount of dirt and leaves caught in the strands. Toned muscle covered every inch of him, his skin reddened and tanned from the sun, slightly dirty, and he reeked of, well, it was difficult to tell, but she assumed it was blood, the salty stench tickling her nose.

It didn't matter to her though. Her body was broken and dying, and sitting in front of her was a fresh one, strong enough to do her job for her.


	3. Chapter 3

"Cas, you know you're supposed to eat it, right?" Kevin laughed the next morning, "not bathe in it?" The angel was sitting across from him at the table, making a big mess of the cereal Sam had given him to eat, large pools of creamy white milk in the surrounding area, staring his clothes. He shivered as he felt his skin tingle against the dampened areas on his shirt. The spoon was clutched in his hand as if he ws a toddler, his knuckles turning almost white.

"I am," Cas answered, dipping the spoon into the bowl and shoving it in his mouth, milk dripping from the utensil.

"No, Cas, you aren't," Kevin said matter-of-factly, "you're making a huge mess." Sam grinned as he stood by the stove; the smell of eggs and bacon wafting through the air. They were just like kids- _well, Kevin technically still is a kid_, he thought as he carefully tilted the frying pan so the eggs and bacon slid onto the plate. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he said, "Who wants eggs and bacon?" Cas immediately gave him the injured puppy look that he usually gave Dean, his blue eyes watery and wide.

"Cas, there's no need to do that," Sam grinned, setting the plate down on the middle of the table. Kevin immediately sprang up out of his chair, spearing a piece of the sizzling rendered beef fat on his fork.

"You my friend," he said as he chewed off the end, "are a culinary master." There was a look of glee in his eyes as he gobbled up the rest of it, making it look as if it were the first time in years he had ever seen bacon and eggs, let a lone food.

"There's no need to do what, Sam?" Cas asked, clearly confused as he took eh rest of the eggs and piled them into his bowl of now soggy cereal. Sam grimaced as he watched him mix it, then put a large spoonful of the glop in his mouth.

"The innocent puppy eye thing," Sam said.

"What….." Cas trailed off. Sam shook his head. It was sometimes better not to say things in front of Cas, considering eh never understood it anyway.

"Never mind, never mind," Sam muttered, "so did Dean wake up yet?" Kevin shrugged, holding the plate so close to his chin he may as well have been licking it clean like a dog lapping up water. Cas shrugged. He used to watch Dean sleep every night, but now Dean yelled at him to leave the room whenever he went to bed. _I still don't understand why…. _he thought with remorse, chewing his food carefully, jaw tensing with each bite.

"I just did," came his brother's voice from the door, "and i am so hungry I could eat my fingers!"

"Actually, you are able to eat your fingers. Your finger has the same density as a carrot, but you can't actually bite all the way through because your brain tells you that it is not food, but your finger, so you can't," Cas suddenly explained, casting his head down to smile to himself for providing them with a new tidbit of knowledge. Dean and Sam exchanged confused looks- he had often done that when they first met him on Earth, but it was the first time he'd done it in a few years. Shaking his head, Dean bit his lip- he didn't ave time to worry about things like that.

"Whatever, man," he mumbled under his breath as he pulled a chair over tot eh table, the feet screeching against the tiles. Sam flinched as his brother continued, "Has anyone heard from Charlie? I'm getting worried." Kevin stifled a laugh, his face going red. Dean sent a pointed glare his way, "What's so funny to you?"

"I don't know," Kevin shrugged, "you never seemed like the type who would worry, you know?" Sam smirked, collecting the plates to put in the sink. If an outsider were to look in on the scene, it looked as if they were a happy little family with a doting father and loving mother, worrying about their three kids. Sam sighed, _but I guess that isn't the case huh? _There was a sudden knock at the door, making him jump, the fine china he held cracking into two perfect halves as it hit the bottom of the sink. Dean laughed- Sam could be so clumsy sometimes, it was hilarious.

"You okay there, Mama Bear?" he joked as Sam wiped his hands on his jeans, going to answer it, activating his bitch face on the way. Coughing, Dean's smile immediately melted. He had been given that look so many times in the past, and not all of them on friendly terms. Again, there was a loud banging on the door, short and clipped thuds being muffled through the wood. Rolling his eyes, Sam reached for the door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" he called, his fingers skimming over the multiple locks that barred the bunker's door. Each one came undone with a click, chains links clinking. There was a garbled moaning coming from the other side, making them sen extremely impatient. He heard his brother call from the kitchen.

"Is it Charlie?" There was a hopefulness to his tone. The hinges creaked as Sam opened the door.

And emitted a bloodcurdling shriek that could rumble through all of Heaven, Hell and Purgatory for eternity.


	4. Chapter 4

Immediately, Sam slammed the door in its face, racing back into the kitchen, knocking over a chair in the process.

"What's going on?!" Kevin asked, jumping in his seat as the chair fell with a loud bang. Bangs and clinks soared through the air as Sam fumbled through one of the drawers, muttering a curse as he sliced his palm on the blade of a particularly sharp bread knife.

"You okay there, buddy?!" Dean repeated, walking briskly over to his brother, grabbing his hand ftp have a look. Sam jerk it away, clutching the handle tightly, stinging where his blood emptied onto the wood.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said quickly, breathlessly, "it's just-" Without finishing, he went to the front, being pulled back by Dean, who said, "It's just what, Sam?" Sam shook his head- he had thought everything was gone, that they were finally able to live peaceful life and not have to deal with angels or demons and the like. _I guess it isn't like that_, he thought as he pulled way from Dean without an answer, stalking over to the front door of the bunker. The thing was still banging itself against the door, groaning mindlessly, a jumble of nonsensical bile that could not be translated into words no matter how hard he tried.

"Sam?" came Kevin's voice from behind, making him jump.

"Kevin-"

"Is everything okay?" Kevin asked, his eyes wide as he then heard the bang, the muffled sound, "what was that?"

"it's nothing, Kevin-" Sam began, being interrupted by a long snarl.

"T-that didn't sound like nothing," Kevin joked, following with nervous laughter. Cas looked from one person to another, fear and confusion flashing in his innocent blue eyes._ Are more angels here to get me?_ he suddenly thought, remembering what Hael had said, what she screamed as he left her in the girl's broken body, torn apart and bleeding. He shivered at the memory. Staying in his set, he watched as Kevin came running back, screaming, tears in his eyes.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dean shouted, grabbing the teenager and cradling him in a tight bear hug, "what happened, kid?!"

"Sam, he-he sat…" Kevin blubbered, his face beet red. Wiping mucus from his nose onto his sleeve, he gulped, "Sam sta-stabbed the zombie and then…!"

"Zombie?" Dean asked hesitantly. h head thought everything had disappeared once the angels had fallen, all of them had tried to find homes and new vessels for themselves.

"Y-yeah…"

"It must be Metatron's doing," Cas piped up, "he must know where we are." Dean shook his head. The bunker had been hidden well for over seventy-five years. He knew that no one knew any way to get in besides the front door that lead tot eh staircase that went down into the ground. Even then it was difficult to find the door, it was so well hidden by vines and vegetation.

"Not possible," Dean said gruff, letting go of Kevin as he padded his way to his room, slamming the door shut.

"Uggghhh…." followed a low groan. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Okay, Sammy, we get it, it isn't funny anymore!" Dean barked, but the groan only came again, turning more into a ferocious growl.

"Samuel!" Cas tried echoing Dean, "just stop, please!" Dean shot him a look, making the angel slink deeper into his chair, playing with his fork on the plate. the groan came again, and in a blur, Sam came rushing in, clutching the knife in his hand so hard his knuckles were turning white, his body trembling.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, why is going on!"

Sam panted, "…Croates…." Swallowing hard, he watched as the zombie shuffled in, head lolling to one side. Its skin was a gray, mottled mess, pieces hanging in long streamers off its bones, an eyeball hanging from its socket. The rotted flesh was stripped away on its face to reveal a bloody red, almost blackened jaw, stumps jutting out randomly. The thing was missing an arm, fresh blood spurting from the wound, trailing on the kitchen floor.

"Sam!" Dean cried, "what the fuck?!"

"Dean!" Sam growled, his eye twitching slightly, "now is not the time-"

"Dean, get behind me!" Cas ordered, pushing Dean behind him. Sam rolled his eyes. Of course Cas was going to save his brother over him. The two did have a profound bond, after all.

"Cas, you cannot do anything in this situation-" Sam began to protest, but the angel had a cold look in his eyes, saying, "i can smite it where it stands, Sam! Back down!"

"You are such an idiot!" Sam bellowed at the angel, "you and Dean just get out! try to protect Kevin in case anymore of them come in!" Startled, Cas obliged, looking like a puppy that had been caught peeing on the rug. Grabbing his hand, Dean pulled Ca sin the direction of Kevin's room, leaving Sa to face off against the undead by himself.

"Shit," Sam muttered to himself, widening his stance, holding the knife out in front of him defensively, "That really was not a good idea…."


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as Rick saw Daryl jerk his body forward, he knew something was up. So when he started speaking with a suddenly advanced vocabulary, Rick was sure to keep his shotgun at his side at all times. As soon as he had wandered in, in fat, was when he noticed. _This is absolutely disgusting_, Hael thought as the man waltzed into the fort, jogging lightly past what she could only describe as a Croatoan- _it certainly looks like it! _

"Daryl!" Rick called out to him, catching the tall statuesque man by surprise. Flailing slightly, he walked over, fingers twitching as he did so. Rick knew Daryl was never the type to be nervous in front of him- heck, he doesn't even consider me the leader of the group, Rick thought as he cautiously approached the man. He noticed Glenn and Maggie by the fence, watching strangely as Walkers pushed against the chain links, snarling and growling ferociously, skeletal fingers groping for fresh meat. Michonne was ignoring them, as usual, using her swords to slice some skulls.

"Y-yeah….?" Hael stammered out, surprised by how deep the man's voice was- did she possess a hillbilly?!

"On the radio, you said there was a girl," Rick said. _He means me_, Hael thought, nervousness flashing in her eyes. Daryl nodded.

"Uh, yeah…. what about it?"

"Where is she?" Rick asked nonchalantly, placing his hands on his hips. Hael made the man shrug uncertainly, unsure of what to say. He would think the man and herself insane if she told him the truth. The brown eyes wandered, not making contact with Rick, who seemed like a no-nonsense kind of guy already.

"About her…"

"Daryl," Rick cut him off gruffly, "I'm not gonna say it again. Get to the point." Each word was clipped, stressed. Opening his mouth, Daryl/Hael sighed. Slowly, he reached for the crossbow strapped to his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the two by the fence stiffen, trying to get Michonne's attention. Pulling it out of the case, Daryl held it awkwardly, shaking as he tried aiming it at Rick.

"Daryl, put the weapon down," Rick said, suddenly calm, "whatever it is that's troubling you I'm sure we can work it out, okay?" Hael looked from rick to the three t the fence. Michonne was now watching with menacing eyes, swords at the ready. The Croatoans were now being ignored, wailing grotesquely for their prey's attention.

"Rick!" he woman barked, pushing Maggie and Glenn away.

"Michonne, it's okay!" Rick yelled back, keeping a wary eye on Daryl. Before he could say anything more though, he suddenly felt it. Gagging, he fumbled, fingers reaching down his throat, trying to grab for it, but it was already too far down, the wood splintering, ripping into his throat.

"Sorry, Rick," Hael said, wiping a tear from Daryl's face as she/he turned to face the others, "you humans are in worse shape then I thought."

Raising the bow, she let his fingers squeeze until they bled, arrows whizzing as the air was decorated with screams.


	6. Chapter 6

Hael panted as she ran, the man's body not exactly built for speed. When she had thought of taking over a vessel, she figured it would be one that was lithe and slender, but this one was all muscle and bulk, not exactly ideal for running. _But at least it wasn't somewhere crowded like the woods, right?_ she thought, the crossbow bouncing against the man's back. Indeed, she was happy to run in the open space, not have to knock anything out of her way- or Daryl's way, depending on how the situation was looked at. She herself wasn't sure anymore. Was she Hael, a fallen angel, or Daryl Dixon, a man fighting of this life each minute?

After running a few yards there were loud moans in the distance. Squinting, she noticed a few of them on the horizon, all ready to eat, ready to rip apart anything that moved. Just to survive. Quickly, she made Daryl's hand pull the crossbow out of its sheath, aiming it so it was level with Daryl's eye.

"Are these things still alive?" she muttered to herself, taking up a brisk jog, crossbow at the ready as she ran. _Then again_, she thought, skidding to a stop as two of them approached without warning, _they just want to live. Like me_. There was a hiss in the air as two arrows flew, one after the other, each one meeting their target: square in the skull, the crack of bone echoing through the air as she watched with horror the bodies crumpling to the ground.

Croatoans she hadn't noticed stopped coming for her and ambled over to their fallen comrades, whom were still squirming in stupid agony, black gook spurting from the wounds. She clapped a hand to Daryl's mouth, tasting the dirt and sweat between each finger, under each nail. Throat burning, she silently vomited, thankful that the Croates didn't notice her anymore. The stench of rotted flesh and freshly spilled blood attacked Daryl's nostril's.

They were just trying to survive, she knew that. The angels were trying to survive as well. The it struck her: if humans were being revived, turning on each other, what was happening to the angels? The demons? Everything from Heaven and Hell combined, heck, even Purgatory, for all she cared? As carefully as she could, standing up Hael began to run, not caring which direction she was going in, not caring if any more of the Croates followed her.

Because if they were doing this to each other, she didn't think it mattered that angels should stay alive, it didn't matter if angels were killing each other to stay alive anymore. Because in doing so, they were just like the Croatoans, feeding off each other in order to get by day after day. Chest heaving, hale slowed Daryl's body to a stop. She didn't know had far she had run, but she didn't care. Just to get way from the Croatoans was enough for her.

"FUCKING SHIT!" came a loud scream, making Hael jump. _What the hell?!_ she thought, and she felt Daryl's heart beating faster, going a mile a minute. Looking around, she heard more shouts of terror, but wasn't exactly fire where they were coming from.

"More angels?" she said to herself, as there were more shouts. following the sound, she gasped, scuttling a few feet backward so as not to be seen. She knew there were no other angels alive- it just wasn't possible. But it wasn't angels that were shouting.

It was the Winchesters.

The Winchesters, who were- _no, are_, Hael corrected herself- the most feared demon hunters in the world, who struck fear into the heart of every demon and even angels, as well as anything that fell in between. The tall one- _Sam_, she thought- was clutching a knife in his large hand, dwarfing the knife itself fin comparison. His brother and the prophet were nowhere to be seen, as well as Castiel, the one who caused the fall. Hael kept Daryl's fingers on the trigger, shivering as Sam let out an imitation of a war cry, his voice echoing as he charged at a Croatoan, shoving the knife well into its skull. There was a small pop and a stream of red gushed out, like a fountain, splattering all over the grass, the hunters clothes, sticking in clumps in his shaggy hair, staining his skin. Hael felt a shiver run down Daryl's spine. _Disgusting_, she thought, gulping. She took a few cautious steps closer, watching as Sam kicked the body away, leaving the knife along with it. To her surprise, he went to open a door, disappearing inside what looked like a house- _a bunker_, she deduced, hearing the slam off a door. Sliding the crossbow back into its sheath for a second time, Hael ran over to the zombie, letting Daryl's brown eyes trail over it, inspect every inch to make sure that it was definitely dead for good. She stole a quick peek at the door- it wouldn't be good to have the hunter catch her in case he came out for the weapon. The stench tickled her nose, the smell even stronger then before, but probably because she was closer to it then last time. Swallowing hard, she took the handle of the knife in Daryl's hand, holding it so tight his knuckles turned white. She gripped it tight, preparing to pull it out of the skull-

"Hey! Who the hell are you?!" came a voice from behind. Turning, Hael let go of the knife, crawling away. She hadn't realized Sam opted the door again, didn't hear any sign of him coming back for the weapon at all.

"Shit," she sent a trail of saliva to the grass, Daryl's voice drawing out the word like a paintbrush on a canvas.

"Shit is right, buddy," Sam scoffed as he jumped the three porch steps, his feet crushing weeds as he landed.

"Everything okay, Sammy?" Hael heard Dean ask as he followed his brother, stopping short once he saw her- or, Daryl really. They probably had no idea that the man was possessed. Hael watched as Dean looked at the zombie, then at her, asking, "Who's the guy?" Sam shrugged.

"No idea," he answered, "but should we find out?" Dean pursed his lips, shrugging.

"I mean, we should fire out how he survived all the zombies, no?" Sam nodded, then approached Hael, grabbing Daryl's arm and yanking him up. Next to him, the two men were at war with height, although Daryl looked to be a bit shorter then the hunter. Roughly, Sam ushered her inside the bunker, Dean closing the door behind them. As soon as Sam let go, Hael whipped out the crossbow, aiming it right between Sam's eyes. Dean pushed the crossbow away, saying, "Calm it down, bud! No one is here to kill anyone!" Hael glared t Dean, who raised his hands in defense, taking a step back.

"Really, man, it's okay," Sam said calmly, a nervous smile on his face, "we're all friends here, right?" Chest heaving, Hael slid the crossbow back into its home, the Winchesters nodding in encouragement.

"Good, good," Dean said soothingly, "why don't we go sit down, okay?" Sam nodded, leading her into a kitchen, the bright light piercing Daryl's eyes, making her blink. There was a low screech as Dean pulled out a chair, pushing her into it. As soon as he was sure she was comfortable, Dean walked briskly into another room, saying as he turned the corner, "Kevin, Cas?"

_Castiel?_ Hael thought, eyes widening, _he's here?! _She cast her eyes down once Sam gave her a quizzical look. _Does he know Cas?_ he thought, keeping his eyes on her- Daryl, really. Then they came in- the angel and the prophet. As always, Cas had on that placid look- blank, yet full of knowledge, always making the tiniest observations. Meanwhile, Kevin had a flicker of fear in his eyes, running a hand through his black hair nervously. She was surprised that the prophet was young- but that was besides the point. What mattered most was that at the moment, she was under the watch of the two deadliest hunters in existence, in a new vessel that may as well have been dead at this point.

"Who's that?" Kevin asked. Cas was silent, standing in the doorway, keeping his eyes on her.

"That's what we're about to find out," Dean said gruffly, then to her, "Who the fuck are you and how did you find us?" Hael was silent, eyes sending daggers their way. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Dean, I don't think that's going to work-" Sam chastised, gaping when Dean went over and pulled open a door, producing an Angel Blade. Hael widened her eyes- Daryl's eyes- and Dean smiled, licking his lips.

"So you know what this is?" he said, "good. That takes care of a lot of things."

"Dean, why do you have that?" Sam guffawed.

"Sammy, you never know when it will come in handy-" Dean began, stopping when Sam plucked it out of his fingers, tossing it in the sink. There was a clang as it bounced against the metal inside, finally resting after a few seconds of ringing.

"What did you do that for?!" Dean yelled at Sam.

"Dean, you don't know if this guy is an angel or a demon or whatever!" Sam scoffed.

"Dean is right, Samuel," Cas piped up, making the brothers go silent. Sam rolled his eyes- it was just like Cas to agree with Dean on everything, no matter what it was.

"And how would you know?" Sam asked incredulously.

"How would he have gotten here alone?" Cas asked. Sam shrugged,

"Running? he suggested, "walking? what's your point?" Cas jutted his chin at Hael.

"It looks as if this man hasn't eaten a proper meal in days," Cas explained, "he may be all muscle, but that's just from fighting. Probably defense against the Croatoans, no?" Sam and Dean locked eyes with Hael, and she felt their stares bow into her, trace every piece of stubble on the man's chin, analyze every fleck of dirt or blood that he ever had.

"I guess, but-"

"If he hasn't eaten in say, three days," Cas cut Dean off, "shouldn't his chess be a tad sallow? His stomach rumbling?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows, and Hael let out a share gas as he reached behind him, taking the Angel Blade out of the sink.

"Please…" she began, Daryl's voice whispery, "please don't…." Sam raised the blade, ready to strike when Cas suddenly grabbed it from him, and Hael shuddered violently.

"Cas!" Kevin exclaimed, watching in horror as the angel dug the blade deep into his chest. Hael widened her eyes as Cas said roughly, "Good-bye, Hael, sister. May you be with God."

"….N-no…." Hael gasped, gulping for air as Castiel twisted the knife home, a bright gold light expelled from the sockets of Daryl's eyes, his open mouth. As soon as the light disappeared, Cas pulled the knife out, tossing it at Sam, who almost dropped it as it bounced between his fingers, the blade slick with blood.

"Was that an angel?" Kevin asked, keeping his eyes on the body that was sitting in the kitchen, the stench of blood beginning to fill the air. Dean rolled his eyes.

"No, it was Santa Claus," Dean said sarcastic and harsh, "yes, it was an angel! Did you not see the magical lights?!" Kevin rolled his eyes- he really hated Dean's sarcasm. It wasn't his fault that he had no idea what was going on anymore anyway!

"Dude, no need to be mean about it," Kevin said. Dean rubbed his chin, saying, "Alright, whatever. I apologize, but can we get back to the task at hand?"

"Which is…?" Sam asked, shrugging his shoulders. Dean gave him a look of disbelief- did he really just ask him that question?

"To get rid of the body! Duh!" Dean said with bewilderment. Cas sighed.

"I honestly though she had died, when I left her in that ditch," Cas said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well, now we have to take car elf this, so the sob stories can be saved for later," Dean said, "and what's with the crossbow?" He pointed to the weapon strapped to the man's back, an arrow fitted onto the string, ready to kill. Sam shrugged.

"You're guess sis as good as mine," Sam said.

"Well, i really don't want to know," Kevin shook his head.

"What I want to know is how Hael came to possess him," Cas said, his voice gravelly.

"What do you mean?" Kevin asked.

"When I left her in the ditch, she was wearing the body of a sixteen year old girl," Cas explained, "this man looks to be about thirty. How did she find him?"

"Again, your guess is as good as mine," Sam repeated, "but we should probably move him, no? The blood is definitely going to leave a stain." Nodding, Dean bent down and slung one of the man's arms over his shoulder. As he went to lift him up, there was a low groan. Dean looked from Sam to Kevin, then Cas, asking, "Did any of you just groan?" Kevin and Sam exchanged glances, Cas shaking his head.

"Um, no," Sam answered. Dean furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he herd it again, a bit louder this time. Sam went to say something, but Dean shushed him, keeping one of the man's arms around his shoulder.

"There it is again!" he said excitedly, "just listen, okay?" Annoyed, Sam crossed his arms over his chest, muscles bulging. After a few minutes of silence, they heard it: the same groaning, and Dean could feel the vibrations against his chest- the way he and his arm over his shoulder, the man's face was buried in Dean's chest.

"Y-you stabbed the dick, right, Cas?" Dean asked nervously as the body groaned again. Dean let go of the arm, and the body fell with a thud. Sam jumped as the crossbow was triggered, the arrow missing his leg by a mere inch. It dug itself into the wall, creating a small crack.

"Dude!" he said in astonishment, relief washing over his features, "we should probably separate him from the crossbow, no?"

"Good idea!" Dean agreed, grabbing the man from under the armpits while sam set to undoing the ties that strapped the crossbow across the man's chest. Dean grimace as his head lolled to the side, chin burrowing into the dirty shirt he was wearing.

"The dude needs a shower," Dean commented, wrinkling his nose, "and bad!" Sam chuckled.

"You think?" he laughed, finally getting the crossbow free. The buckle clanked as Sam dropped it on the floor, helping Dean lay the body on its back, cringing as a strong smell of sweat and blood and dirt wafted to his nose, "Ugh. gross." They froze when the man mumbled incoherent nonsense, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth, pooling on the floor.

"Fucking bastards…" he mumbled, stretching his neck backwards. Kevin was staring at the wound Castiel had inflicted- the blood had stopped pouring, now trickling like a faucet that had been left on, dripping slowly. Blood splattered on the tiles of the floor like raindrops against a windowpane.


	7. Chapter 7

Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes, eyes wide and mouths clamped shut. The man on the floor stirred, flopping from his side onto his back, furrowing his brows as he hit his head on the floor.

"What the fuck…?" he mumbled, blinking. Dean gulped, nodding as Sam went for the crossbow, fingers touching it lightly, ready for action. Dean watched as the man touched his head lightly, eyes open in fully, squinting as he scoped out the area.

"That hurt like a bitch…" he muttered, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Dean shrugged.

"Getting stabbed then falling on the floor will do that, yeah," Dean agreed, then jumped as the man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him until their noses were a leas an inch apart. Dean tried his best not to gag- if the man had smelled bad unconscious he smelled even worse up close.

"Dude, you need a breath mint- better yet an entire bottle of Listerine!" Dean sputtered, choking on the rank stench that emanated from him.

"Cut the crap," he barked, "the fuck did you do to me?" Unhooking his hands from his shirt, Dean back away.

"W-we didn't do anything, you stinking animal!" Dean shouted, "how are you still alive?!" It was the man's turn to be confused, raising an eyebrow in question.

"The hell are you talking about. son?" he asked, standing up. As soon as he cast his brown eyes at Dean he noticed it- the large gash in his chest, blood now turning into a dry brown crust, "what the hell happened here?"

"That's what we would like to know," Sam said, eyes wide at the stranger. They had just stabbed an Angel, yet the vessel was up and walking and talking like nothing had happened! How did one explain that?!

"Did the Gov'ner make you bring me here?" he asked.

"Who?"

"The Governor," he repeated, sending a trail of saliva at Dean, who rolled his eyes.

"Listen, dude," he said, "you may look like an animal but that doesn't mean you have to act like one!" The stranger sent daggers in Dean's direction.

"That doesn't mean you have to act like a whiny bitch either," he pointed out. Kevin chuckled, shutting up when the guy turned on him.

"Sorry," Kevin muttered, "that wasn't something to laugh at…. maybe…. I-I'll just go…" Without another word he disappeared around the corner, and Dean could hear the door to his room slam shut.

"Anyway," the stranger drawled, "where is the Governor?"

"There sis no Governor," Sam answered with a small shake of his head, "never has been as far as we know."

"Well, has any of my group members come by here then?" the stranger asked. _Maybe they saw Merle_, he thought, _just want to be sure..._

"What, like, church group?" Dean suggested.

"No, you idjit," he said sarcastically, "my survival team. Has any of them come by here?"

"I'm pretty sure we would see someone coming," Sam said, "I mean, the bunker is miles away from any sort of civilization-"

"So you're saying no one ever came here and said they were from the prison camp a few miles South of here?" the stranger asked, crossing his arms over his chest, muscles bulging. Dean crossed his arms in imitation, slightly jealous of the man's build.

"Prison camp?" Dean scoffed, "for the bad guys? What did you do, stab a dude?"

"No," the man said, "we camped out there after the Governor took over the schoolhouse we was in. Sent a shit load of Walkers after us when we were in his home as well-"

"Walkers?" Sam asked. H end never heard anyone use that term for the Croatoans in his life. Heck, he'd heard zombie, but never Walker.

"That's what we call 'em," he said with a nod. Sam nodded.

"Okay, well, do you want to try calling your friends to come over here?" Sam suggested, "I mean, we have enough food for about a year, we can help feed mrs mouths if necessary-"

"What are you doing Sammy?!" Dean cut his brother off.

"What?"

"You can't just offer strangers our food supply!" Dean barked.

"Well I wasn't the one who stabbed the guy!" Sam shot back, as if it counted for anything. Dean rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't either- that was Cas! Anyway he literally barged in here with a weapon! How can we trust the dude?!" Dean retorted.

"Are you two lovebirds done squabbling?" the man asked with a sigh of boredom. Cas was silent the entire time, keeping this blue eyes on the stranger. The man locked eyes with him, "What are you looking at?" Without a word, Cas went around the corner, joining Kevin in their shared bedroom.

After a few minutes of fighting and the man standing there- the stab wound had stopped bleeding, which was great, but if it wasn't treated it might get infected- Dean agreed with Sam to help share the supplies, although they were in for a real surprise when they heard the man's next comment.

"Thanks for the help, but in order to do so, we'll have to go back to the prison," he explained, clapping his hands. He gestured to the wound, "and we gotta get this cleaned up, no?"

"We have to go to the camp?" Dean said. The man nodded as he reached behind himself. Hooking the collar of his shirt on his thumb, he pulled it over his head, revealing a nicely toned pack of muscle, as well as a railroad on his chest, a few on his arms.

"Yessir," he said, "and we have to get this cleaned up. I don't know how it got there, but then again, I really don't want to nor do I care." Dean shrugged, thankful that they didn't have to explain anything about angels or demons and whatnot. They might have sounded insane to him if they did.

"Alright then," Sam said, breaking the awkward silence that followed, "I'll have Kevin help me find the first aid kit then. Dean- just uh, show him were the laundry room is, okay?" Dean rolled his eyes asSam went to speak with the prophet, grumbling that Sam always left him with the awkward jobs at any moment he could.

"Alright, Sally," the man chuckled, "show me where the laundry room is then." Dean groaned, shuffling down the hall, saying, "My name is Dean. It would be nice if you used it."

"Okay then," he said, "if we're gonna use a fist name basis, the name is Dixon." Dean raise dan eyebrow at him. _What kind of name is that?_ He thought.

"Daryl Dixon," he said, then Dean nodded, although he thought the first name sounded even weirder then the last.

"Okay, buddy," Dean shrugged, pushing open the door to the laundry room. Daryl followed him inside, tossing the torn and now bloody article of clothing on the floor.

"One thing I gotta say to you," Daryl said as they left the washroom.

"Okay?" Dean said, ending it as if it were a question.

"I ain't no one's buddy," Daryl said. Dean slammed the door behind them, rolling his eyes. He was in for a long day, he knew that. _Let's hope we get to the prison and quick_, he thought, _because I don't want to deal with Indiana Jones here for another minute!_

Sam and Kevin were busy digging through the medical supplies when they entered the living room. Cas had stayed in his room, much to Dean's surprise. He usually watched when he and Sam had to bandage themselves up after a hunting trip. Sighing, Dean plopped himself on the couch.

"I assume you know how to bandage yourself up…." Sam said, trailing off so he could fill in a name. Daryl nodded, saying, "Daryl, kid. The name is Daryl." Sam nodded, handing him the roll of bandages to him.

"Okay then Daryl," Sam said, "well I'm Sam, you've already met Dean." Dean grunted as Sam pointed to Kevin, who gave a small wave, "this is Kevin, and the other guy from earlier was Castiel."

"What the hell kinda name is that?" Daryl muttered as he unrolled the tape, wrapping it around his torso. Sam shrugged, sitting himself back down on the couch, clasping his hands in front of him.

"So uh, Daryl, how long have you and your team been living in the prison?" Sam asked as Daryl ripped at the tape, tying a large knot to secure it. Daryl tossed it, making a perfect landing in the medical kit.

"About a year, I suppose," Daryl answered gruffly, "when there are no working clocks, you lose track of time, I guess. I dunno." Nodding, Sam pursed his lips. They hadn't even been in the bunker for that long and they barely had enough for the year- how did he and a bunch of numerous others survive for that long? _And how are we gonna feed them when they come here?_ he thought nervously.

"That's pretty sick," Kevin commented, nodding his head as an impressed grin slid across his face.

"You know what else is pretty sick?" Daryl said. Kevin shook his head. He himself was never able to actually go on the hunting trips with Sam and Dean, staying home to decipher the tablets for them.

"No, what?" Kevin paled when he heard the answer, the smile instantly disappearing.

"Watching little kids learn how to use knives during story time," Daryl smirked as he saw the teen's ace fill with shock and awe.

"What?" Dean piped up.

"Carol- on of the group members- during story time, she would teach kids how to defend themselves against the Walkers," Daryl explained.

"How old were these kids?" Sam asked, a look of concern flashing in his eyes. Daryl shrugged.

"Most of 'em were about ten to thirteen," he answered, "some of them were as young as five years old. Barely in kindergarten." Daryl chuckled, shaking his head.

"Dude, there isn't anything funny about that," Kevin snapped suddenly. Daryl shook his head.

"Of course there is," he said, "I never would have expected kids that age to learn anything like that. To become killing machines." Dean was strangely quiet- it was kind of like what they did for a living. Savin people, hunting things. The family business, as their father and called it. _But five years old?_ he thought, _we didn't even start at that age!_

"How are the conditions at the prison camp?" Sam asked. Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Fairly clean, fairly dirty," he said, looking as if he were truly pondering his answer, "you know, we have a few bodies here and there. The usual."

"Bodies?" Kevin pressed, a look of disgust on his face. Daryl shrugged.

"Gotta get rid of them somehow, right?" Daryl suggested, then, "And Sammy?"

"Yeah…. Daryl," Sam said uneasily. He wasn't really used to anyone calling him Sammy unless it was Dean. And Cas called him Samuel, so that nickname was out as well.

"I'm gonna need my crossbow back," Daryl demanded, "so hand it over."


End file.
